


The Unfurling Leaf

by morierblackleaf



Series: Induration [1]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, No Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 03:40:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4464083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morierblackleaf/pseuds/morierblackleaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 1 of my "Induration" series. This story takes place before all others, with "Loudwater" occurring hundreds of years after this one.</p><p>Legolas' faithful sentry, Kalin, helps the Prince through a trying time in his young life when little Greenleaf has no one else to whom to turn. This story contains references to child abuse. </p><p>I own none of these characters and make no money from writing about them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silmarilli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silmarilli/gifts).



> Ask and ye shall receive. Dear Pomai aka Silmarilli wanted a Kalin and Legolas fic. To challenge myself, I've strayed from the norm and written this entirely from Kalin's perspective. To set the story -- yes, this is the same universe as the rest of the Induration series. Technically, this story takes place before all other stories/vignettes/short stories. If you've just clicked on this story without reading any of my other work, you may be confused. Sorry about that. The stories in this series are numbered by timeline, not by order in which they were written. However, you can read the latter, finished stories, and not be confused if you don't read this story first. Enjoy.

Kalin fidgeted with his tunic as he walked up the long, sloping, curvy corridor to where his Prince’s chambers lay in the massive underground halls of the Elvenking. The Silvan was nervous but not for himself. No, the Elvenking was irate, as he often was these days, and he had just sent Kalin to fetch the Prince. It did not bode well for Legolas.

 _There is nothing to be done for it,_ he thought uneasily, and then asked himself, _I cannot stand between father and son, can I? It is not my place._

It was less than a year ago that their Queen had died. With her death had perished all of Thranduil’s good will for the Prince, it seemed. The Elvenking was still the adamant guardian of the Silvan and the forest, he was as diplomatic and shrewd as ever he had been, and he was no less adored by his people than before. In fact, it seemed the Silvan were even more enamored with their King the longer he ruled. Not only had Thranduil chosen a Silvan to take to wife, but also the son she had borne him was raised in the Woodland fashion with Silvan traditions, and was as loved for his cheerfulness, kindness, and bravery as was their King. To most of the populace and despite the constant struggle to safe keep the Greenwood, times were good. Only those closest to Thranduil and Legolas – Kalin and a few of the other guards and personal servants – were aware of the growing disturbance in their King’s mind.

 _I wish I knew why he wanted Legolas. At least then, I could try to help the Prince prepare for the worst,_ the sentry pondered as he faltered a moment, pausing as he reached the topmost level of the corridor. _One of these days, Thranduil will drive Legolas away or hurt him seriously,_ he worried. Although it was Kalin’s duty to protect the Prince with his life, he could not disobey his King to do so, and thus far, he had been forced to be a passive observer to the Elvenking’s strange, mounting, and inexplicable odium for the Prince. With a sigh, he chastised himself, _If I don’t hurry, I will only make Legolas late and thus only make Thranduil madder._

At one time, these chambers had been the Queen’s chambers. At the end opposite of where he stood, the door to the Prince’s bedchamber laid, which was where he would find his charge this early morning. On one side of the hallway laid a door leading to a library, which had a balcony opening out upon the mountainside, while on the other side of the hallway laid a door leading to a sitting room. At the end where Kalin stood now, the hallway opened out onto the topmost landing of the main stairwell, but also to the meandering corridor leading an indirect path down through the mountain fortress. Also at this end was another door eventuating via a short vestibule into the sentry’s room. For most of his life as a guard, Kalin had lived in the barracks inside his King’s halls, which were located on the second floor, just above his King’s many rooms. But now since he served only the Prince, the sentry had requisitioned a room closer to his charge. They were small quarters – just a single room with barely enough space for a bed and desk, but they suited Kalin fine. Being close to Legolas was more important than luxury, and though the kindhearted Prince had offered to convert his sitting room into a bedroom, Kalin would not have it. Legolas had once lived nearer to his King several floors below, but once the Queen died, he had moved into her old chambers, and Kalin would not have his Prince change them in any way since he knew Legolas had moved here to be closer to the memory of his Naneth.

Kalin had quickly risen through the ranks of guards. The King’s head sentinel – Ninan – was a demanding and exacting leader, but Kalin had thrived well under the strict militarized rule of Ninan and his other superiors. Eventually, he had surpassed most of them through his dedication and unflagging loyalty – and Kalin was nothing if not loyal. Although they mostly trained the young warriors now, his mother and father were always the first to volunteer for Thranduil’s never-ending war against the Dark forces tainting the Mirkwood forest, his older sister had died in the forest protecting her patrol when it was overrun by Orcs, and Kalin spent all of his time and energy in the effort to protect the royal family. The Greenwood was more than their home – it ran through his family’s blood and they had spilt their blood for it.

Kalin had started off in the border patrol, following his sister’s hallowed footsteps. She was still spoken of reverently amongst the Elves who patrolled the forest for danger; Halrene, her name had been, and she had given her life gladly to save her fellow Silvan in her attempt to stem singlehandedly an attack by a band of Orcs. Thanks to Halrene, her entire patrol company made it back home with only minor injuries. Although there had so far been no wars for Kalin to fight in, he imagined now that his responsibility lay with the Prince, he would not be following in his parents’ footsteps by going off to fight great battles – not unless Legolas went to do so – in which case nothing would stop Kalin from fighting alongside his Prince.

From the moment he had seen the Elfling babe in his Queen’s arms during the birth celebration, Kalin had loved the little Princeling. No more fair or adorable than most newborns, the baby had been relatively nondescript. No, at the time, it had been his Queen’s ostensible love for her child and Kalin’s love for his Queen to cause him to dedicate his life to protecting the Queen’s most cherished treasure – the Prince. Now since she was gone, Kalin held his oath evermore sacred. Having lived and breathed for his Prince for years now, the sentry still thought of his charge as a child, but though Legolas was still young in the eyes of his father and people, he was fully grown physically. As were most Elves at his age, Legolas was capable of fighting and dying alongside his brethren, for he was already adept at archery, the long knives he favored over swords, and hand-to-hand combat. With a pride Kalin couldn’t explain, the sentry had often watched his Prince contest during the training through which all the young Elves in the Greenwood underwent – whether they intended to be warriors or not, for all in Mirkwood had to be ready to take up arms if needed. Within the next hundred years or so, the Prince would be seen by his father and people as a true warrior, but right now, the Prince was still young enough to have not yet been tried by actual battle, he had only been beyond the safety of his father’s halls with stout protection, and even if his body was mature, he was still a gentle, tenderhearted, and innocent Elf.

Kalin’s protectiveness over Legolas knew no bounds.

Of course, all this was why he felt such discontent with his current task. _I’m leading the lamb to slaughter,_ he railed at himself, even as, with a nervous cough, he struck the door several times in rapid succession to garner his Prince’s attention. From within the room, the melodic voice of his Prince called out, “Come in, come in.”

 _How many times have I told him not to just invite anyone in without knowing first who it was?_ the sentry complained to himself. _He ought to have the door locked, anyway._ Unlike the King, Legolas did not have guards constantly on his heels. While Thranduil’s halls were safe, by Kalin’s thinking, it only took one time for one wayward Elf to seek revenge against Thranduil by hurting Legolas for the Prince to learn the lesson of vigilance the hard way – and potentially paying for that lesson with his life. But Kalin would not harangue his Prince over it today. The young Silvan had enough lectures coming to him.

The sentry entered the room to find Legolas was sitting near one of the small, round, glass paned windows dotting one side of the wall. Overgrown with flowering mosses running down this section of the mountain, the windows let in scarce light, which was why the young Wood-Elf was right under one for illumination by which to complete his task. Cross-legged in the floor, the laegel had his new bow in hand, along with a small tub of unguent meant to be rubbed on the wood and string to keep both pliable. When he looked up to see who had come within, the Prince smiled widely at his sentry. Kalin was helpless but to smile back at the younger Silvan. Try though he did to always retain the appearance of reverence and respect for his charge, Kalin found it hard not to treat the Prince as a younger brother. He had quite literally watched over Legolas from the first few days of his life until now, so had seen the fair, happy Elfling grow into an even fairer, merry Elf.

“Kalin!” the Prince called out in warm greeting. “I was just about to go to the archery fields for practice. Want to come with me?”

It was on days like this when the sentry found his heart aching for the young Elf; he hated to see his Prince upset in any way. After the Queen’s death, Legolas had been as upset as any child who has lost his mother and there were now few times where the Prince’s natural enthusiasm and cheerfulness were as close to normal as those times when he practiced his archery amongst his friends. With regret, he came to where Legolas sat, bowed slightly in greeting, and disappointed his charge by telling him, “No, my Prince. I’ve been sent by your father, who requires your presence.”

Legolas’ smile slowly slid from his face and his shoulders drooped. Carefully placing his rag over the tub of unguent and then sitting his bow upon the small table where he kept it, the Prince stood to ask worriedly, “For what?”

Not liking at all how his fellow Silvan’s merriment had become a guarded wariness, Kalin admitted, “I do not know, my Prince, but he is upset over something, it seems, and wishes to speak to you of it.”

He watched Legolas swallow thickly, as if he had something lodged in his throat. Nodding, the young Elf’s typically smiling, carefree face hardened into a mask of stoicism. Already, the Prince had learnt many difficult lessons about pleasing his hard to please King. One of the most important lessons was for Legolas always to maintain a façade of princeliness when around others. Although the young Silvan was usually himself around Kalin – that is, friendly, open, and his emotions honest upon his pale features – right now, Legolas schooled his visage into a strange likeness of Thranduil. It was depressing to see.

“I ought not to keep him waiting.” Legolas grabbed his boots and sat upon the bed to pull them on. In quick, harsh jerks, the laegel tightened the straps. Kalin did not miss the fretfulness with which his charge asked, “Will you be coming with me?”

What the Prince sought but did not want to ask for is if his sentry would come with him, whether he was instructed to or not, or if Kalin would leave him to face his father alone. He assured his charge with what he hoped was a comforting smile, “Of course.”

Indeed, the younger Silvan seemed relieved by Kalin’s words, for he chanced to smile in return as he stood from the bed. They made their way out of the room and then rapidly down the main stairwell. Beloved by his people, Legolas was greeted or bowed to by everyone whom they passed, and the Prince offered his return greetings with sincerity.

Just before the great hall where Thranduil’s throne sat, there waited several young Elves with whom the Prince often practiced his warcraft. The tallest of them and ringleader of their youthful band, whose name was Seith, greeted Legolas with an uncivil, “There you are! You’re late, as usual!”

Kalin gritted his teeth to keep quiet from chastising Seith for his irreverence. Although he knew it was by his Prince’s insistence that his friends did not greet him with the respectful “Your Highness,” Kalin was irked each time he heard it. _If Thranduil ever hears them speak to Legolas like this, he will tan their hides for them,_ the sentry thought, almost wishing it would happen so it would stop. However, he could hardly complain without being hypocritical, for over time, Legolas had finally convinced Kalin to stop calling him “Your Highness,” though the sentry had merely switched to saying, “my Prince.”

Laughing with forced humor, Legolas strode to where his friends stood. Kalin’s muscles twitched uncomfortably as he saw Seith and his brother Vaeril push Legolas with more force than was respectful, although it was only with youthful, male exuberance and not a wish to harm the Prince they did so. Laughing again as he stumbled from the boisterous shoves, the Wood-Elf told his friends, “And I will be even later. Go on to the archery field and start without me. I need to see my father first.”

After some grumbles, Seith, Vaeril, and two other Elves whom Kalin did not know left with promises from Legolas to join them shortly, and then Prince and sentry entered the throne room. Devoid of anyone except the two guards standing at the entrance and then outside the small door leading to Thranduil’s personal rooms, the massive hall echoed their footsteps as they crossed it. The guards nodded to Kalin but bowed deeply to their Prince as they passed through without being stopped or questioned of their purpose.

As had Kalin earlier on his way to fetch the Prince, Legolas began to slow until his steps faltered completely before reaching the door to the King’s study. For a moment, ere the mask fell back into place upon his charge’s face, Kalin could see Legolas’ abject distress and unhidden panic; but then, when Legolas turned to speak to his sentry, no hint of his fearful misery showed. The younger Silvan asked of Kalin, “Will you wait for me?”

“Of course, my Prince,” he replied at once.

Giving his sentry a despondent smile, Legolas knocked upon his father’s study door. When Thranduil called for him to enter, the Prince opened it. Kalin looked within to gauge how upset the King truly was, but he could tell little from Thranduil’s demeanor, though oddly, there was a stench of undiluted, spiced wine hanging in the air, as if the Elvenking had spilled a whole vat upon the floor. In truth, Thranduil had been up all night and day drinking, and Kalin realized this once he saw how flushed the King’s face was. It was worse than he thought. Having the Elf-King mad at Legolas was bad enough, but enduring the King’s temper when Thranduil was drunk… well, the sentry’s stomach clenched in fear of what might happen to his charge.

“Thank you, Kalin,” his King called out to him for having done as he was asked by bringing the Prince to him.

He bent low at the waist in response. As he rose, the sentry fought the urge to walk inside with his Prince, to be beside him, to protect him from his raging Ada. However, Kalin knew his presence was not wanted and he did not desire to spend the night in the dungeons for disobeying his sovereign; and yet, the sentry hoped Thranduil might keep a tighter rein on his temper if he knew Kalin would remain nearby, and so said loudly enough for Thranduil to hear, “I will wait for you, my Prince, and afterwards, we will go to the archery field.”

His excitement for the pleasure of practicing with his bow now only abject dread, Legolas nodded distractedly at Kalin and went into his father’s study, shutting the door behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

Perhaps he ought not to be blatantly listening in to his King’s tirade, but Kalin had no qualms about it. Always armed, even in the relative safety of the Elvenking’s halls, the sentry palmed the pommel of his sword. He loved and admired his King like the rest of his kith, but as he listened to Thranduil ranting at Legolas, Kalin realized he was also growing to abhor the Elvenking. The thick stone walls and equally thick wooden slab door were meant to block sounds from entering or escaping the King’s study, such that even with his keen hearing, Kalin couldn’t catch all that was said; at least, not until Thranduil began shouting. From what he could tell, Thranduil was upset over some prank Legolas had pulled.

Kalin knew just of what the King spoke. During one of his lessons the day before, Legolas had poured a little of the ink from his inkpot into his teacher’s tea while the instructor was distracted. His teacher, a kind old Elf who loved the Prince like a son and who had only laughed after seeing his tea black with ink, had not told on the laegel. No, Kalin knew it had been Ninan to tell the King of his son’s silly prank. It was a joke, one harming no one, and one making the young Silvan’s teacher laugh, but Ninan, who seemed to know every bit of gossip, had relayed the story to the King. It wasn’t vindictiveness to have made Ninan tell their sovereign, but an overinflated sense of duty to report all things related to the Prince. And now, likely not out of true anger for the prank but because he would use any excuse to beleaguer his son, Thranduil railed at Legolas over it today.

 _The Prince is little more than a child,_ Kalin complained acerbically, wishing he had the gall to enter the room and shout to Thranduil what he thought to himself. _You can’t hold him at fault for sometimes acting like one!_

He listened for the telltale sounds of flesh hitting flesh. Elves rarely beat their children for discipline as the Edain were wont to do – or so Kalin had heard – but the sentry knew for a fact that Oropher had used corporeal punishment upon Thranduil as he grew. It might have turned Thranduil into a fine Elf and a great King, but Kalin feared these beatings would only break down the Prince, for Legolas had his mother’s tender heart; in fact, the thrashings seemed already to be doing so. Before the Queen’s death and as far as Kalin knew, the King had never hit the Prince. He had often shouted at him but had never struck the young Silvan. Now since the Queen was gone, her faer in Mandos’ care, there was no one to calm the often tyrannical King, and Legolas was too young, too innocent, and too loving and respectful of his father to stand up to him.

Rubbing his forehead as a sharp pain began to erupt behind his eyes, Kalin listened as Thranduil now berated Legolas for his friendship with the Noldorin twins, Elladan and Elrohir, who the King blamed for his son’s propensity for tomfoolery. In this, at least, Thranduil had the right of it. Not out of spite but only in endearing mischief, the sons of Elrond were pranksters through and through. As had Legolas done to his teacher in his silly prank, the twins often did to many of the residents of Imladris. Over the years, the two identical brothers had definitely changed the Prince – for the better, in Kalin’s thinking. Because of his friendship with Elladan and Elrohir, the shy, reserved, and almost fearful Elfling Prince had become outgoing, witty, and brave amongst his peers. Of course, Thranduil only saw his once cowed son was now disobedient.

 _I think Thranduil must hate that Legolas has found true friends, when Thranduil has no one but arse-lickers and greedy advisors around him,_ Kalin thought uncharitably of his King. He began pacing along the wall in the corridor but was startled to a halt when he heard his Prince’s soft, pain filled, surprised yelp. The sentry walked to the door and had his hand upon the knob before he stopped himself. _Fool, if you go in there, your King will have your head, and then Legolas will have no one trustworthy to look after him._ The sentry ignored the contrary voice of his conscience telling him that by not going in there, he was not looking after his charge.

Pressing his ear against the door while looking towards the hall’s entrance to be certain none of the other guards would see him eavesdropping, Kalin tried to hear what his Prince was saying. Just barely, he could discern Legolas’ words. As he always did, Legolas was apologizing to his father. Heartfelt and confusedly, the Prince sought absolution for his wrongs from Thranduil, who never seemed to forgive or forget, while Legolas never seemed to understand what he had truly done to earn his father’s anger. And now, Kalin heard as Thranduil’s voice became unnervingly soft and soothing. His words were like sugared poison, though, for the Elvenking was blaming Legolas for having made his father lose his temper and for being the cause of the new bruises the Prince would likely have, when in truth, there was little to nothing Legolas could do to prevent bearing the brunt of his King’s inexplicable wrath.

When Thranduil bid Legolas to leave, Kalin hurriedly moved away from the door and walked a bit down the hall. He did not want to wound his Prince’s pride by letting Legolas know his sentry had listened in to the very private and wounding chastisement the young Silvan had just received. With his head down, the handsome Prince walked without and shut the door to his father’s study behind him. To most, Legolas might have appeared no different than he had upon walking into his father’s study, but Kalin knew his Prince better than he knew anyone and better than anyone else knew his Prince. The young Silvan was cradling his arm to his side, across his ribs, his lips pressed tightly together, and his eyes rimmed with red, as if he might weep.

Kalin knew better than to ask right now if Legolas was okay. The Elvenking might overhear him. He walked to his Prince and offered his company as solace. When the young Elf did not move but only stood there, the sentry offered in hopes of distracting his Prince from his melancholy, “Do you want to go practice, my Prince? If you wait here, I can go fetch your bow and quiver for you.”

Not speaking or looking at Kalin, Legolas only shook his head. From the way the Prince held his arm to his side, Kalin realized the laegel might not be able to practice. Anger flooded the sentry’s mind, leaving no room for rational thought. He would never actually do so, or so he thought, but Kalin wanted nothing more than to storm into Thranduil’s study and give the Elvenking a piece of his mind. The only thing to make the Prince happy these days was practicing his archery; now, the King had taken it away from him, even if only temporarily.

Legolas looked warily down the hall towards where the King’s sentinels guarded the entryway. Kalin knew at once what the Prince was thinking – Legolas was injured and on the verge of tears. He did not want witnesses to his dishonor. And so, Kalin told his charge, “Let’s walk up the back staircase, shall we?”

Still not looking at Kalin, the younger Silvan nodded readily and walked with Kalin farther into the King’s apartments. The sentry took up an unlit oil lamp upon the table nearby, lit it with a candle from the candelabrum on the wall, and then pushed aside the tapestry hiding the entrance to the secret staircase. In the Elvenking’s halls were many such strange openings and corridors. This one in particular was carved into the mountain to give the King a way to escape should he have need of it. It ran up the entire mountain to the very top, had no airshaft or windows and so smelled dank and stale, had doors leading out into various nooks and recesses in otherwise inconspicuous places, and all the doors were locked in such a way so one could exit the stairwell but not enter it – save for one, which led into the floor right above the King’s rooms, where the royal guards lived. Guiding the way with his lamp, Kalin ambled slowly up the steps. He did not know how badly Legolas was hurt and so did not want his Prince to overexert himself. Up they went, past the open door to the guards’ barracks, past several doors opening to other floors of the fortress, until they came to the top. Over their head was a small ladder that could be pulled down. If they had climbed it, they would have found themselves out upon the mountainside. Instead, though, they exited the last door.

Once through, the portal shut behind them and locked with an audible click. Kalin made sure it was secure before escorting his quiet Prince across the small vestibule. This was the very vestibule in which the door to Kalin’s room was located, with the only other door leading to the corridor in which the Prince’s chambers were. He doused the lamp as they came to the young Wood-Elf’s bedroom. The dutiful sentry opened the door for his Prince and then watched Legolas as he entered. Legolas walked into his bedchambers and gingerly sat back down upon the floor, just where he’d been when earlier Kalin had found him. The young Wood-Elf picked up his rag and bow as if to restart his task of burnishing his weapon, but once he had them in hand, Legolas only stared at them, his face downcast. The joy he had earlier displayed to be caring for his newly crafted bow was gone, leaving only a facsimile of the carefree Prince who Kalin had grown to love beyond all reason.

In a strange way, Kalin found himself proud of the Prince. He was clearly upset and injured, but had made it all the way to his rooms without complaint of discomfort or showing his sorrow. Even now, in his rooms and safe from being seen by anyone save his sentry, the Prince did not wail or sob like a child, as would most young Elves if they’d just been scolded and beaten by their father. Several tears trailed down his placid face, though. Kalin could hardly fault him for them given the circumstances, not that he would have anyway – not even if Legolas had flung himself onto his bed and bawled like an Elfling. Having just lost his mother in one of the most unimaginably horrid ways possible, having been turned upon by his father, who showed the grieving young Elf no sympathy or care like a good Ada ought to have, and save for the Noldorin twins who were across the Misty Mountains, having no friends to whom he could tell his worries over his father, since doing so to any of his Silvan friends would risk his King finding out or ruining the King’s reputation for being a just and noble sovereign, Legolas looked lonely sitting there under the window. Kalin felt like sitting beside his Prince and crying, as well.

The elder Wood-Elf stood at the door in indecision. Legolas was an adult – if only just barely – and he was the Prince, which meant a mere sentry had no place inserting himself into the Silvan’s affairs. Moreover, he imagined Legolas might wish to be alone. And yet, when the young Elf absently went to douse his rag in the unguent but in doing so twisted his injured torso, and thus dropped the cloth to grab at his aching side, Kalin forgot his dithering and straightaway went to his charge.

He dropped to his knees beside Legolas, asking him, “What is it, my Prince? Are you hurt?”

Shamefaced, the laegel tried to hide his pain under a false grin and prevaricated by evading telling the whole truth in saying, “It’s nothing. I fell into Ada’s desk and hit my ribs.”

Once more, to save his Prince’s pride, Kalin had no intention of pointing out that while the young Elf might truly have hit his ribs against his father’s desk, Kalin knew Legolas hadn’t fallen of his own accord. Nonetheless, his skepticism must have shown upon his face, for the Prince looked away in heightened shame. Kalin tried to gather the courage to ask the young Elf to show him his torso so he could assess the damage done when suddenly Legolas asked his sentry with uncharacteristic bluntness, “Why does he hate me? What have I done?”

Kalin settled cross-legged on the floor beside his Prince, just as was Legolas, while various answers flew through his mind. He rejected each one. He did not wish to lie to his Prince or offer him fabricated counsel. In the end, the sentry replied sadly, “I do not know.”

Gathering his legs to his chest, which he then hugged, the Prince nodded at this honest answer but then asked instead, “Do you think he wishes I had died rather than Naneth?”

He often wondered if this was the case and was staggered to hear Legolas had thought of it, as well, for it showed the dire depths to which Thranduil’s behavior had driven the young Elf’s thinking. Again, though, Kalin had no answers except to admit, “I do not know, my Prince.”

“Sometimes I hate him,” the Prince admitted quietly, almost as if speaking to himself. Legolas distractedly ran his fingertips around the edge of the ceramic jar of unguent. “Sometimes, I wish it. Sometimes I wish he had died instead of Naneth. I wish he were dead and Naneth still alive.”

Unthinkingly, Kalin looked in fearful shock to the closed doorway. His Prince had just bordered on sedition. If anyone had overheard what Legolas said, Thranduil’s recent violence would be a drop in the bucket in comparison to what he would do to his son for his treasonous, childish wish. His heart hammering against his chest in fear for his Prince, Kalin turned back to Legolas with ostensible dismay upon his face. Upon seeing his sentry’s sudden worry and realizing he had said aloud what he’d heretofore only thought, Legolas appeared absolutely horrified, as well, and for much the same reasons.

“I’m sorry,” the Prince said at once. “I’m sorry, Kalin.” Unsure of why his Prince was apologizing to him, Kalin tried to interrupt his charge’s fraught discourse but failed because the Elf only began to speak louder and faster. “I’m sorry. Please, Kalin,” his beloved Prince begged. “I didn’t mean it,” the young Silvan lied. “Please don’t tell him what I said.”

New tears flowing now, though these were from fright rather than unhappiness, Legolas grabbed a tight hold of Kalin’s arm, as if to keep his sentry from running out of the room straight to Thranduil to tell the King of what the Prince had said. And perhaps he did think this, since his every move or word was reported to Thranduil eventually, mostly by Ninan.

Before the sentry could get a word in to the contrary, with his face ghostly pale except for two slashes of shamed pink upon his high cheekbones, Legolas continued to beseech, “I was just upset. Please don’t tell him.”

Gently, the sentry pulled his Prince’s hand free of his arm, held it between his own, and swore to his charge, “Never. I will never tell him or anyone, Legolas.” Rarely had the sentry used the younger Silvan’s name up until now, and hearing it seemed to reassure the Prince that Kalin did not lie more than did Kalin’s actual oath. “You can trust me to keep your secrets, I promise, but please be wary of saying such things. If someone else overheard you…” the sentry began but didn’t have the heart to finish. Legolas knew the consequences already.

The laegel was not yet appeased, though. With misgiving, he pulled his hand free of Kalin’s hold, rewrapped his arms around his legs as if hugging himself, and then twisted his fingers together tightly. “But you are the King’s guard. Just like all the other sentries. Just like all the servants. They all adore him. They do not know him like I do,” the young Elf said. “None of you do. You all think he is a wonderful, kind, and caring King, when really he is mean, selfish, and cruel.”

His eyes growing wide as he realized he’d just criticized his father now, the Prince rapidly made to apologize again, to beseech Kalin to remain quiet once more.

However, both the sentry and Prince startled fiercely as they were interrupted by a loud, insistent knock upon the door, followed immediately by Ninan calling out, “Your Highness?”

 _Sweet Varda,_ Kalin cursed to himself, his pounding heart now skittering as quickly as a hummingbird’s wings. Having just told the Prince not to speak in such a way lest someone were to overhear him, there could not have been a worse visitor to the laegel’s chambers than his current one.


	3. Chapter 3

Kalin jumped up from his seat upon the ground. Already pale, Legolas’ visage was apparitionally white, his already wide, startlingly blue eyes now seemed to take up the entire upper half of his face, and if Kalin wasn’t mistaken, the young Elf was now trembling with fear. Mouthing the words so not to be overheard by Ninan, the sentry told his charge, “Be calm, my Prince. Let me speak to him.”

 _I hope Ninan heard none of it._ Without waiting for an answer from Legolas, Kalin fled to the door, thinking as he opened it, _If I have to, I will bribe, beat, or blackmail Ninan into holding his tongue about what the Prince has said._

Ninan was unsurprised to see Kalin at the door. Although the sentry tried to keep the portal only slightly ajar so his superior could not see within, Ninan attempted to step inside, only to be stopped when Kalin did not move from the way. A scowl forming upon his face, the captain paced back a few steps and gave his underling his most fierce glower.

“Where is the Prince?” the captain rudely, gruffly asked his underling. From Ninan’s wrathful demeanor, Kalin assumed the captain had heard at least some of what Legolas had said of his father – _of their King_. Loyal to Thranduil above all else, Ninan was thoroughly incensed at the Prince’s criticism.

Kalin cast a glance back into the room, where Legolas now stood beside the window. It seemed to Kalin if the windows had been operable or bigger, the young Silvan might have been tempted to open or break one and flee, so great was the blatant panic upon his face. As he turned back to Ninan, Kalin prayed to any Valar who might be listening, _Please, just let Ninan have heard only the last bit, if he heard any of it at all. Don’t let him have heard Legolas say he wished his father had died rather than the Queen. But better yet, let him have heard none of it. Let his anger be for me, for anything or anyone but Legolas._

Too long in answering Ninan, Kalin floundered at the door, thinking of how best to ameliorate the potentially precarious situation. Finally, Kalin managed to prevaricate, “He is inside, resting. Have you some message for him? I will pass it along.”

If at all possible, Ninan’s face grew even dourer, for he could see through Kalin’s lie and did not appreciate being kept from his task of speaking to the Prince. But thinking that perhaps the Prince was the cause for Kalin’s mendacity, the captain did not press the issue as he could hardly fault Kalin for following his Prince’s orders, nor could he overstep his bounds and demand to see the Prince. Instead, he told his underling, “Fine. Tell Prince Legolas the King desires his company for the evening meal tonight. He has a guest coming whom he would like for Legolas to meet. The King requests the Prince dress appropriate to his station.”

“I shall tell him, and see he does,” Kalin told Ninan. As the captain of the Mirkwood guard began away, his obligation completed, Kalin slipped outside the door, shut it behind him, and shadowed Ninan down the hall. Seeing he was being followed, Ninan stopped just at the top of the stairwell, turned, and waited for Kalin to speak. He asked his superior without preamble, “You were at the door. What did you overhear?”

It wasn’t that Ninan was vindictive or a gossipmonger, nor did he hold some grudge against Legolas. As the Prince had only just told Kalin, the servants and guards of the Greenwood were obeisant to their King above all others – as well they should be, of course, though it often worked to Legolas’ detriment, for in placing the King above all others they oftentimes unknowingly caused unnecessary suffering for the Prince. Kalin did not want to see this happen now. Already, after the Queen’s death, Legolas was withdrawn, unhappy, and grief-ridden on the best of days. On the worst of days, Kalin often feared the young Wood-Elf’s sorrow might cause Legolas’ faer to abscond his rhaw so he could be with his Naneth.

Ninan stared at Kalin for a few moments, perhaps gauging his fellow sentry’s intentions. Bluntly, the captain replied softly, “I heard our Prince call our King selfish, cruel, and mean.” Ninan looked back to the shut door to Legolas’ bedchamber, wherein the Prince in question was sequestered in fright. When Ninan returned his gaze to Kalin, the captain glared at his underling as if it were Kalin’s fault for Legolas berating his father. In a quieter voice, Ninan added so lowly none could have overheard lest they were standing in the corridor with them, “And I heard our Prince say he wished our King was dead.”

He was quite sure his heart was beating so hard and fast it might gallop right out of his chest. “He is merely upset. He and the King had an argument,” the sentry explained, though he amended quickly, “well, Thranduil shouted and Legolas took it with grace, as usual. Do not make more of his churlish, irresponsible wishes than his merely being upset.”

Ninan crossed his arms over his wide chest. Astute and not one to tiptoe around something when candor was a quicker route – a trait he shared with or had learnt from the Elvenking – Ninan inquired, “What are you asking of me, Kalin? Prince Legolas bordered on treason just now, though it will be King Thranduil’s place to decide whether it is or not. And I will not lie to our King or pretend I did not hear it.”

“I do not ask you to lie. I only ask for you not to offer the information. Can you not see how Legolas suffers? King Thranduil grieves, this I know, but he takes out his anger and sorrow upon the Prince,” Kalin tried to reason with Ninan, knowing he bordered upon treason himself in questioning their King’s state of mind. In fact, he could see the admonishment forming upon Ninan’s lips, though Kalin continued quickly to stave off the imminent lecture, “Since you heard Legolas say those things, you also heard him beg me not to tell Thranduil. You heard his fear and regret for saying them. He is young and he has just lost his mother. His father, our King, treats him with little regard, so caught up in his own grief is he, and understandably so, perhaps, but the same could be said for the Prince, as well. Please,” Kalin begged shamelessly on behalf of Legolas, “do as he has asked of me and say nothing to Thranduil. I would not have Legolas beaten or thrown into the dungeons over what amounts to little more than the besorrowed outburst of a grieving child. The Prince did not mean it, but Thranduil will not care, and the King will only become ever more embittered towards Legolas should he hear of it.”

Ninan’s fierceness dimmed. With the practiced motions of someone who has lived millennia and thus braided his hair innumerable times, Ninan pulled free one loose, chestnut braid and plaited it again in aggravation. Had not Kalin known his captain better, he might have thought Ninan was stalling for time to give his answer.

“You are too close to him. I do not like it. Do not forget he is the Prince, not the King,” his superior warned him with what sounded to be friendly concern for Kalin. Stepping closer to Kalin, Ninan took hold of his fellow guard’s arm, telling him as if he were trying to be of aid to Kalin or talk some sense into him, “Prince Legolas is not your friend. He is your charge; remember this. You can do your duty for Legolas but Thranduil is your sovereign. Your loyalty lies with the King.”

Before Ninan was even finished speaking, Kalin was shaking his head in negation of the captain’s assertion. Yanking his arm free from his captain’s hold, Kalin boldly and perhaps unwisely argued at once, “You are wrong. I spoke my oath to the Queen, to the Prince, and to the King the day I became Legolas’ guard, making a vow before Ilúvatar to protect the Prince with all I am, Ninan, and putting his welfare above all others. And that is what I am trying to do now – to protect my Prince.”

A stern scowl crossed the captain’s face and he opened his mouth to argue, but at realizing Kalin’s unwavering adamancy on the matter – evident in how Kalin argued with his captain when normally the obedient sentry would never do so – Ninan began to doubt his intention to relate to the King what he’d heard. The captain stepped back and crossly folded his arms back over his chest. Ninan was not quite convinced, but Kalin could tell his elder was coming around; yet still, the captain told his underling, “The Prince cannot say such things and expect no reprimand.”

Kalin drove home his point, saying aloud that which everyone suspected, but what no one talked about to each other, “And do you know what kind of reprimand he receives for the most harmless jokes? Today, the King threw the Prince against his desk, bruising if not cracking his ribs. He is hurt – enough so that he could not go practice his archery with his friends, which as you know is truly his only enjoyment these days. The King injured the Prince over a little prank involving ink in a teacup, Ninan. If you tell the King what the Prince has said, what do you think might happen to Legolas?” he questioned heatedly.

The captain shifted where he stood and looked away from his underling with palpable unease, as if unable to admit aloud the veracity of Kalin’s claims. Kalin did not believe for a moment that Ninan was unaware of Thranduil’s tendency to display violence towards Legolas – willfully uninvolved, yes, but not unaware. Kalin was tempted to tell Ninan he knew the captain was the reason for Thranduil even knowing of the prank, but his attempt to guilt Ninan might only irritate his captain and thus make him less amenable to his pleas. However, even without his telling Ninan he knew the captain was the one to tattle on the Prince, Kalin could see the remorseful sympathy for Legolas as it overtook Ninan’s stern face.

“Please,” he beseeched his captain, while considering dropping to his knees in supplication if that’s what it took for Ninan to understand the depths of Kalin’s desperation to keep his Prince from harm, “I will speak to Legolas. I will explain to him that he cannot say such things – even in juvenile anger as any other Elfling might and be able to get away with it. I am not asking you to lie,” he reiterated, “I am merely asking you not to make worse an already volatile situation by offering the information without being asked for it. Please, Ninan. I want only to do my duty and protect the Prince.”

Ninan did not like it, Kalin could see. He could also see his captain would agree to this. Ninan plainly did not appreciate being forced into the awkward situation where his loyalty to Thranduil placed second behind his want for the Prince to be safe and well. However, despite his allegiances lying first with the King, Ninan did love his young Prince, as did all the guards, servants, and the populace of the Greenwood, and he no more wanted for Legolas to be maltreated than would anyone else.

“Fine,” Ninan groused, “unless he asks me specifically, and only because I doubt he will ever have reason to, I will say nothing of this. However, if somehow the King hears of this and I am implicated in keeping it from him, I will cleave your fool head from your shoulders,” Ninan warned Kalin, poking the younger Silvan with one finger to his chest in a remarkably painful jab. The captain was not one to make bombastic or aggrandizing threats – if Ninan promised he would make Kalin one head shorter, then he damn well meant it, Kalin knew.

“And make certain the Prince understands the repercussions of saying such things about the King,” Ninan hissed, giving Kalin another painful jab. Portentously, his words cutting through Kalin’s chest as easily as if they were a well-honed dagger, Ninan warned his underling, “He is young but he is a Prince – he must learn to fend for himself. You will not always be there to protect him.”

To himself, the sentry said, _No, you are wrong. I will always be there to protect Legolas, if I have my way,_ though to Ninan he oathed while nodding eagerly his agreement, “I will, I promise.”

At this point, short of murder, he would have been willing to do or agree to anything Ninan asked of him to gain his captain’s compliance. Kalin would gladly take every ranting and beating Thranduil handed out to the Prince, he would take all the blame for every wrong Legolas was accused of committing, and he would bear all of the Prince’s sorrow if he could. His love for his charge was nearly irrational, so great was it, and almost obsessional, so much did it consume him; however, Kalin knew without doubt that his own life and life’s purpose was tied to the young Woodland Prince. If tomorrow Legolas were to fade from grief, Kalin would willingly follow his Prince into the Halls of Awaiting, where even there he would spend his eternity watching over Legolas until his Prince was re-embodied to live in Valinor or the world was unmade and Ilúvatar’s second song begun.

 _Whatever it takes,_ he told himself as he watched Ninan sprint away, down the stairs and back to Thranduil. Ninan did not give his word lightly, so Kalin knew the captain would keep it. Sighing deeply in relief, Kalin held a hand out to the wall of the corridor, his mind reeling and his heart finally slowing its fretful beating as his fear for Legolas lessened. _Whatever it takes to keep you safe, my Prince._


	4. Chapter 4

Without knocking, Kalin made his way back into the Prince’s bedroom, where he found Legolas right inside the door in wait for his sentry’s return. Clearly, Legolas had been listening in to Ninan and Kalin’s conversation; since it had been about the Prince, Legolas had all rights to know what was said, of course. Kalin had no more than shut the portal behind him before his charge began thanking him, saying, “You have saved me. No one has ever stood up for me like you did. Thank you!”

To the sentry’s surprise, Legolas was smiling, his fear and anguish at his father’s treatment forgotten for now, so great was his relief. The sentry professed quietly, bordering on treason as he declared, “I am our King’s subject, my Prince, but I am your servant. My allegiances lie first with you, just as I told Ninan. You need never worry I will choose another’s side over yours.”

“You risk making my father angry with you in doing so,” the young Elf warned, though Kalin needed no such caution, for he knew well that should Thranduil ever have cause to think Kalin’s fidelity laid with the Prince over the King, Thranduil would remove him from his position and send him to the dangerous border patrol as punishment, if he did not remove him from service entirely.

He placed a congenial hand upon his Prince’s shoulder, though he hurriedly removed it after realizing how familiar he was being with his charge. Ninan had only just admonished Kalin for thinking Legolas to be his friend, and here he was acting it. But still, he told the young Elf with earnestness, “I will gladly risk our King’s wrath to keep you safe and well, my Prince, just as I would to protect you from any other threat. It is my duty, my oath, and my pleasure.”

Legolas nodded and gave his sentry another of his honest smiles, to which the elder Wood-Elf again could not help but smile back. However, to Kalin’s consternation, the young Elf’s grateful cheerfulness dissipated, leaving only confusion and unhappiness as the Prince’s thoughts returned to his father.

“I don’t understand why he is angry with me. He couldn’t have really been mad over me pouring ink in Andle’s tea, could he?” the Prince asked in true bewilderment as he walked back to the windows where his bow laid forgotten upon the short table. Gazing out between the flowering vines growing over the small glass panes on the outside of the mountain, Legolas spoke softly, as if thinking aloud, “There is some other reason he hates me. I think he wishes I had died rather than Naneth,” the laegel repeated as he had said earlier. 

He followed Legolas, coming to stand beside him at the windows. Although it had long since been removed, when the Queen had been alive and Legolas a mere babe, a rocking chair had sat under these windows, wherein the Queen would sit with her Elfling for hours at a time, singing, nursing, and lulling to sleep her beloved little Greenleaf. Kalin wondered absently if the Prince recalled this and if it had anything to do with why Legolas often chose to sit on the floor under the windows rather than at his desk in the library, on one of the comfortable chaises in the sitting room, or even upon his bed. Even now, the younger Silvan dropped down onto the floor, one arm cradling his injured side as he did so, to resume sitting where he had been before Ninan had shown at his door.

“No, my Prince, I don’t think he wishes that at all,” the sentry contested, although in truth, Kalin was not certain whether or not Thranduil would rather have his Queen alive and his son dead. “And I don’t think your father hates you.”

Absently, the Prince nodded, not seeming to be comforted or to believe entirely his sentry’s assurances. Kalin stood there for a while, watching the younger Elf and waiting, though for what, he wasn’t sure. _I can’t leave him like this. I can’t leave him unhappy and sorrowful._ He was no learnt scholar, no lorekeeper or historian, had no craft or tradeskills other than warcraft, and while intelligent, Kalin had never considered himself to be the kind of Elf to whom anyone might come for advice. And yet, here sat his withdrawn, anguished, and injured Prince, in need of consoling words and with not a single person from whom he might receive them other than Kalin – for no one else would ever know of what had happened today, Kalin was sure of it.

The younger Wood-Elf’s eyes were unfocused and his face slack, as if he were deep in thought, but truly, the elder Elf knew his young charge was obsessing over whatever insults and criticisms the Elf-King had given him today – he was thinking about why his father hated him, why he wanted to hurt him, and what he had done to deserve it. Shaking off the feeling that he had no right and no experience to offer such council, Kalin cleared his throat to gain his Prince’s attention. In what must have seemed a strange change of topic, the sentry asked Legolas, “Have I ever told you the story of how my sister died?”

Legolas’ dark amber brows rose in surprise and he looked up to Kalin with attentiveness. “Halrene? I’ve heard the story of how she saved her patrol from the band of yrrch set to overrun their camp. She saved her entire contingent by luring the yrrch away, didn’t she?”

It was the sentry’s turn to be surprised. Halrene’s name was often spoken with reverence, for she set the example of how the Silvan warriors hoped to be – that is, selfless, sacrificing, and brave – but he had not expected for Legolas to know of her because she had lived and died long before the Prince was born.

“You have heard of her, I see,” he told Legolas with a genuinely pleased smile. He sat on the floor beside his Prince, adjusted his scabbard out of the way, leant his back upon the wall, and crossed his long legs at the knee while stretching them out before him.

“Of course. Everyone has heard of Halrene. Faidnil once told me there is even a song about her great deeds, but I’ve yet to hear anyone sing it,” the young Elda complained with a consternated frown. Legolas loved to hear stories of battles and bravery; he took after his father in this way.

“As a kindness, the bards don’t sing it when my father and mother are around, and these days, they are always in attendance during the feasts now they have retired from rotation in the border patrol. The grief of her death returns to them at the least reminder,” Kalin explained patiently, which earned him an understanding nod from the Prince. “One day, though, I will sing it for you, if you wish.”

This promise earned the sentry the most carefree, authentic smile he’d yet to see upon his Prince’s face since this morning, before he had taken Legolas to endure Thranduil’s wrath. The laegel considerately replied, “I would like to hear it, but not if it reminds you of your grief, Kalin.”

A pang of sorrow leapt across the older Silvan’s chest, though it was not for the remembrance of his sister’s death, but for the kindness his Prince showed him. As the late Queen had done, Legolas always evinced his compassion for his kith and kin. Kalin loved his sister greatly – as much as he loved his Prince – and it pleased him every time he heard someone speak well of her or wanted to hear of her. And yet, Halrene’s story was not of what the sentry wanted to tell the younger Elf. He hesitated, though, for the same reason Legolas gave for his not wanting to hear the song should it upset Kalin. The sentry did not want to bring up the Queen’s death, nor did he want to give his Prince false hope. But Legolas’ eagerly interested face made up the sentry’s mind and he told himself, _Perhaps a little false hope is better than no hope at all._ More than likely, the young Silvan thought he would hear a tale of daring and battle, but the guard had a different story to spin.

“What few know, my Prince, is after Halrene died, my mother and father took it very poorly, as might anyone who has lost a loved one. Naneth was the most besorrowed by my sister’s death. Even then, her and father had already stopped patrolling and were doing what they now do – training the younger Elves in warcraft. My parents were the ones to train Halrene and I, such that after her death, each time Ada was faced with a young Elleth who had dark auburn hair and light green eyes – as Halrene had – he would become overwrought with grief from his memories. Hide it though he tried, he eventually requested only to train the males. It took him over three years before he could train an Elleth without becoming distraught.”

Legolas moved into sitting cross-legged again, his elbows on his knees, and his chin in one hand. The Prince’s entire body was leant forward and his head was tilted to the side as he listened intently. It was not often Kalin spoke this much or this seriously to his Prince, since it was not his place to teach or advise the young Wood-Elf. Intelligent, always eager to learn, and moreover, a lover of storytelling, the Prince was already caught up in his sentry’s narrative.

Kalin collected his thoughts for a moment, for here was the relevant point of his story. “Naneth, on the other hand, grew quite bitter. Whether it was a male or female Elf whom she was training, Naneth was very stern and very exacting. I think, perhaps, she was not taking out her anger upon her students, but trying to instill in them the knowledge they would need to survive. She did not want to lose another Elf whom she cared for, and so thought to be as hard upon them as possible so they would be the best warriors they could be. Of course, her students only thought she was being cruel and grew to dislike her for her harshness. Nonetheless, some of our most apt and bravest warriors were trained under her during that time.”

Ever astute, although he rarely got credit for his cleverness from his father, Legolas smirked slightly at the guard as he came to understand Kalin’s allusion to Thranduil and why his sentry told him this story. “So you think my father is only trying to make me the best Prince I can be?”

“I hope it is the case, anyway. I am just a sentry and I cannot claim to know our King’s thoughts. He loves you, I am certain of it. He is doing what Oropher did for him in trying to strengthen you, to make you capable of withstanding any trial or hardship you might encounter – just as my mother tried to do for her students. But also,” Kalin added with a devoted smile for the young Silvan, “he is just like my father. When our King looks at you, he sees the Queen in you. Although you look more like your Ada, you share more in common with your Naneth, and it must pain our King to be reminded constantly of the Queen’s death.”

Again showing his acumen and a wisdom born not from age but from a life in which too much hardship had already accumulated, Legolas opposed, “It doesn’t seem fair to me. I have lost my mother just as he lost his wife. Why should I have to suffer more because he suffers?”

For this, Kalin had no answer. He thought to himself, _It is not fair, it is true. But life is rarely fair._ He would not share with his Prince such a trite rejoinder, though. Instead, he tried to offer Legolas some hope, while not realizing how false his promise would prove to be over the many years to come, “In time, my Prince, our King will grieve less, his faer will be less burdened by the Queen’s death, and it will all get better. I promise you,” he oathed wholeheartedly, not once thinking he was lying, although in Kalin’s lifetime, he would not see this come to pass.

He earned a smile for his efforts – a smile beginning small but growing as Legolas allowed Kalin’s promise to instill within him optimism for his future. “You are right,” the young Elf told his elder. “I suppose I will just have to endure it for a while longer. And perhaps I will be a better Prince for it.”

Even so, Kalin did not like the thought of his beloved Prince enduring anymore of their King’s violence or unwarranted judgment, nor did he like hearing Legolas so willing to accept their King’s anger; however, all Kalin could do was offer his support and whatever protection he might without being caught and thus removed from his charge’s side. His own gloominess lightening with his Prince’s bettered mood, Kalin stood and offered his hand out to Legolas to pull him up from the floor, as well.

“Come,” he asked of the young Silvan, telling Legolas, “if we can’t practice our archery today, let us find something else to do other than sitting here. It is a beautiful day outside and – ”

The sentry’s intended offer to his Prince was immediately forgotten, for as he tried to pull the younger Elf up, the ache of Legolas’ injured chest made him gasp, release his sentry’s hand, and then topple back to his knees upon the floor.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please, can I see?” Kalin asked Legolas in a horrified murmur.

The sentry dropped to his own knees and held his hands out to both keep the young Elf from moving and try to ascertain the severity of his wounds. Legolas nodded and Kalin gently lifted the laegel’s shirt and tunic up so he could see the laegel’s throbbing side. Too freshly made to have bruised, the mark upon the Prince’s torso was a deep and angry red line running from his hip, over his belly, and to the middle of his chest. In a day or two, the welt would be a significant, painful contusion hindering Legolas from doing much by way of the physical entertainment of which young Elves were wont – that is, climbing trees, running, sparring, and of course, shooting his bow.

 _Morgoth’s arse. Was Thranduil trying to kill him?_ Kalin had no children but could never imagine hitting one had he any, nor had he ever been struck by his parents. Each time he saw the bruises upon his Prince, the sentry’s mind went hazy with rage. As he ever so gently prodded the muscles upon his charge’s chest, Kalin worried, _Are his ribs broken or will they just bruise?_

Worriedly, he implored the Prince, “You should see a healer. I know little of healing but – ”

Firmly, Legolas interrupted, “No. I can’t.” Turning his face away from the guard, Legolas slid his tunic and undershirt back down his torso and added, “Besides, I can breathe fine. They are not broken.”

It wasn’t pride keeping the young Elf from seeking out help for his injury – or at least, not his own pride. No, it was to save his father’s reputation that the laegel wanted to hide the damage done to him. Knowing he would not be able to convince the young Silvan otherwise, the sentry settled for the next best thing. “Then let me wrap them, my Prince. Please. Just in case.”

When Legolas gave his assent with an uneager nod, Kalin jumped back to his feet, helped his Prince to stand – with more care for the laegel’s injuries this time around – and led him to sit upon his bed. He told the young Elf, “I’ll be right back. I have linen in my room sufficient enough for binding them.”

Again, the Prince nodded, ostensibly not liking the idea but willing to allow it, since Legolas likely hoped in doing so he would convince his sentry not to fetch a healer.

Kalin ran to his rooms as if the Dark Lord himself were chasing him. When first the Queen had died, the sentry had often feared his tenderhearted Prince might follow suit, for while Legolas had loved his mother as any child did, the young Silvan’s sorrow had been augmented by the shared grief of the entire Greenwood. For months after, Legolas had to live with the constant reminder of his mother’s torment and demise because as Queen, she had been the topic of conversation and well-wishing from the Wood-Elves of the Greenwood. And, of course, Legolas had received little comfort from his Ada after his Naneth’s death. For weeks after the Queen’s death, Kalin had trailed his Prince everywhere, staying beside him whether Legolas was otherwise alone or in the company of his friends, so Kalin would be nearby should his young charge’s sorrow overwhelm him. Now, though the worst of Legolas’ grief had faded, Kalin still took care to be available for his charge at all times and took constant note of his Prince’s moods. Thus, although it would only take minutes for him to collect the linen from his room, he sped through his task as quickly as possible so he could return to the young Elf, as he did not desire to leave Legolas alone for any length of time when it was clear the Prince was distraught and mired in melancholy.

It was with this in mind that he threw items from his wardrobe onto the bed, not caring he was making a mess of his otherwise pristine, austere room. In a bag with other rudimentary healing items he took with him when in the forest on patrol or when traveling with the Prince, he found linen he gauged suitable for his purpose. Leaving the mess he had made for later, Kalin intended to run back to the Prince’s chambers when he noticed the long ignored sack of stones and carved game board upon his desk. It had been a gift from Legolas; the small board was made from obsidian, while the rounded, polished playing pieces were made of ivory and turquoise.

 _If he can’t practice his archery for distraction, then I will let him beat me at stones until he’s mirthful again,_ Kalin told himself, picking the articles up with a smile.

In Kalin’s thinking, protecting the Prince’s rhaw was his first and foremost duty, but protecting his young Prince’s faer was just as important – today, the sentry had his work cut out for him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Silmarilli for asking for this story. It has been fun writing it, dear! I hope you have enjoyed it.

Once more, the sentry and Prince were sitting cross-legged on the floor of the young Silvan’s room, in the sunlight under the round windows, and having long since wrapped his Prince’s ribs, they now played stones. Just as Kalin had hoped, the distraction had been both welcomed and enjoyed by Legolas.

In serious contemplation, the sentry tried valiantly to position one of his last remaining stones to capture one of Legolas’ many remaining stones; the longer Kalin planned his next move, the wider the younger Wood-Elf’s smile grew, which made the sentry wonder, _I must only be prolonging the inevitable. Something tells me Legolas has already sussed out how to win this game!_ Indeed, when Kalin finally sat the stone in what he thought to be a relatively useful position, Legolas picked up one of the polished turquoise stones, tapped and hopped it over four of the five ivory stones left upon the board, and with this, captured all but the last of Kalin’s pieces.

He shook his head in bewildered admiration. “You’ve won again, my Prince. And I’m not even sure how.”

Kalin smiled in glad wonderment as his Prince laughed loudly, brightly, and without reservation. Legolas began to pick up the last of the stones from the board to set them in their positions for another game, telling the elder Silvan as he did so, “If I didn’t know how much you hate to lose, I would think you were letting me win because I am Prince!”

At this, the sentry chuckled along with Legolas. Normally, Kalin had a fair chance at winning a game of stones when he played with most anyone else; however, the Prince had grown up playing the game with the twin Lords of Imladris, who had learnt the game and its intricacies from their father and Lord Erestor, both of whom were nigh unbeatable – or so Kalin had heard. Thus, Legolas was a hard opponent to best. Of the multitude of games they had played, Kalin had won only three, and those three had been hard fought.

Before he realized how familiar he was being to tease his Prince in such a way, Kalin responded playfully, “And if I didn’t know better, I would think you were hiding extra stones up your sleeve to place upon the board when I’m not looking!”

Once the words left Kalin’s mouth, he promptly flushed in embarrassment to have accused his Prince of cheating – even if only jokingly. He need not have worried. Unlike the King, the Prince had a vast sense of humor. To his relief, Legolas began laughing again; in fact, the young Wood-Elf seemed to be even more amused at Kalin’s mortification, for Legolas held his arm to his contused side to keep from furthering his injury as he outright giggled at Kalin’s mocking accusation and blushing visage. 

“If you had spent as many wintry, snowy days in the Last Homely House cooped up with Elladan and Elrohir as have I, you would have learnt all the strategies for winning, as well. And,” the Prince added, shifting upon the floor so he sat upon his heels rather than his rear, “you would have learnt how best to cheat! Elladan always tried to hide pieces, as you claim I have, while Elrohir used to accidentally bump the table and make the stones move, and then try to reset them how he wanted rather than how they were. But even though they cheated, I still learnt to beat them.”

Kalin chuckled again at the imagining. He knew how much his Prince adored Elrond’s twin sons. Although the Elvenking and Queen had wanted more children, the Queen had not lived to give Legolas any siblings. In a way, Elladan and Elrohir were the two brothers who Legolas would never have. He couldn’t speak for Legolas, but for himself, the Prince was as a brother, so he could appreciate the laegel’s familial love for the twins since he felt the same for Legolas.

“Do you think soon we can travel to Imladris?” the Prince was asking, which drew the sentry from his wayward thoughts. “I miss Minyatar, and Elladan and Elrohir.”

Legolas had not left the Greenwood since the Queen’s death. Truth be told, he had barely been allowed to travel beyond the innermost flets and huts just outside the stronghold’s gates. For this reason, the guard had the distinct feeling Thranduil would do whatever it took to keep the Prince ensconced in the Greenwood. Kalin could see the longing upon his Prince’s face. Legolas wanted the comfort of his loving second family – especially since his father offered him none. Missives had been sent from Imladris once Elrond and his sons heard of the Queen’s death, but Legolas wanted a soothing and paternal presence, not mere condolences on parchment.

Not wanting to dash his charge’s hopes, though, Kalin rolled one of the smooth ivory stones in his palm as he promised, “I will speak to the King of it as soon as feasible, my Prince, to gauge his thoughts on the matter.”

He had not promised they would go, only that he would mention it to the King, and Kalin was certain Thranduil would say no and likely also rail at Kalin for even suggesting such a thing; and yet, the gratitude shining brilliantly in Legolas’ cerulean eyes was the only incentive Kalin needed to keep his word and risk the Elvenking’s wrath.

 _Speaking of which,_ he thought of Thranduil. He had made a promise to Ninan to see Legolas was dressed and ready for the evening meal. By the slant of sunlight coming in from the small windows overhead, Kalin determined it was nearing time for Legolas to begin preparing for the meeting with the King and his guests. Kalin was not certain who it was in particular Thranduil wished for Legolas to meet, but an envoy from Lothlórien had come this same morning, so Kalin assumed it was one of the emissaries. _I wish we could sit here forever,_ the sentry thought wistfully, turning his attention back to Legolas, who was carefully placing the stones in the indentations meant to keep them from rolling away during the game. _Hopefully, Thranduil has sobered some before the evening meal, but if nothing else, the Prince will not be alone with his father tonight, so no more ill can come to him._ As much as he did not want to relinquish his Prince back to the King’s company, Kalin did not want Legolas to be late and thus earn more of his father’s wrath.

Regretfully, he reminded his Prince, “In an hour or so, it will be time for you to meet with your father. Do not forget – he asked for you to dress appropriate to your station.”

In other words, as both Kalin and Legolas knew, the Elvenking wished for the Prince to wear one of the finely made robes Legolas usually eschewed in favor of the garb he normally wore – clothes much like what the Silvan warriors wore while out in the woods. The simple braids he sported now would need to be arranged in a more elaborate pattern, and additionally, the young Wood-Elf would be made to wear a crown of flowers, leaves, or ivy – or all three – to match his father’s natural crown.

To Kalin’s relief, Legolas’ good cheer did not dissolve at the reminder of his imminent meal with the King. “You are right. I need to bathe and dress, don’t I? I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to beat you at stones another time tonight,” the young Silvan mendaciously regretted to his elder, giving Kalin a rueful shake of his head. Unable to keep up the pretense, Legolas’ lips curled at the corners into an impish smirk.

Having only just set the board for another game, Legolas now took to gathering the stones up to put them back in the bag so they would not be lost. Chuckling at his Prince’s lightheartedness, Kalin set about helping to put the game away. “I’m not sure if my vanity could have endured another loss. If you end up as adept at tactics in battle as you are with strategy in winning games of stones, you’ll soon have every spider eradicated from the Greenwood, my Prince,” he told Legolas with candid admiration for the young Silvan’s sharp mind.

As he was a Prince, Legolas was accustomed to being flattered by those who sought to gain his favor and rarely took said flattery to heart; however, Kalin’s artless, frank praise made the Prince’s fair face beam in pleasure. Tightening the drawstrings of the bag to keep the stones from falling out, the young Silvan sat the bag upon the now emptied board to tell Kalin, “How many more years before you think our King will let me patrol with the others?”

It was Legolas’ desire not to sit safely inside the mountain fortress, but to do as his kith did in defending their homeland from the Dark beings who threatened the Silvan’s livelihood and lives. Worry though he did about Legolas’ safety in doing so, Kalin was perpetually pleased that his humble Prince wished to be of service to his people, rather than let his people service him. He stood and held his hand out to Legolas to aid the injured younger Elf into standing, as well, all the while telling him, “It won’t be long now. Twenty, thirty years. Maybe fifty. And you’ll be roaming the woods with a patrol of your own.”

Just saying this made the sentry’s stomach clench in anxiety, but Legolas nodded excitedly. The young Silvan sat on the bed to pull off his boots, his open face decipherable like a book to his sentry, who watched as his Prince daydreamt of the day when he could be counted as a true warrior. As he observed the laegel, Legolas grimaced in discomfort when tugging off his boots, for bending his bruised torso to do so stretched the aching muscles there.

“Do you need help?” he asked, unthinkingly questioning whether the Prince was too wounded to perform such personal matters as a bath and dressing on his own. Upon realizing his error of potentially offending Legolas’ pride, the sentry quickly amended his offer, saying, “I can wait here so I can rewrap your ribs after you bathe.” 

Legolas nodded his agreement absentmindedly, his attention still upon his daydream and not Kalin or his sentry’s unintentional slight. In a near sprint, his vivacity restored despite his injury and because of Kalin’s kind, attentive presence all afternoon, the Prince began pulling off his clothes ere he had even entered the bathing chamber. Where he stood at the windows, Kalin turned his back upon the sight. He looked to the evening sky, giving his charge privacy though he did not leave the chambers. From the adjoining bathing room, there came sounds of splashing water. Upon the mountainside overhead, a small pool collected rainwater; from this pool ran a wrought pipe into the bathing room’s ceiling and down to the inset tub of the floor. Not bothering with an actual bath, Legolas was merely standing under the pipe to wash himself; as he temporarily stopped the flow from the pipe to soap his hair, the young Silvan began to sing.

Distractedly, Kalin rubbed at his eyes, where moisture from unshed tears was collecting behind his closed lids. The song his Prince sang was one Kalin had heard countless times before, as it was a song the Queen used to sing to her very young Elfling while trying to hush his infantile crying. The memory of the adoring, doting, and beautiful Queen with her much loved, innocent, and pure child incited within Kalin a rush of heady emotions, and he found himself weeping from the profundity of his love for his Queen and Prince. At least once a day, Kalin reaffirmed his pledge to the Queen as if she could hear him where her faer healed in the Halls of Awaiting.

In a mere whisper Legolas would not hear over his splashing and singing, Kalin pledged again now as he had innumerable times before, his oath modest but utterly heartfelt, “I promise you, my Queen, I will protect the Prince at the cost of all else.”

Resting his forehead against one of the cool panes of glass, the Silvan quite forgot to listen for his charge to be finished with his bathing, so caught up was he in memory.

“Kalin?” came a voice from behind him.

Whirling around, the guard wiped at his face when he suddenly realized tears trailed down his cheeks. The Prince must have been finished for several minutes, for he already wore a fresh pair of trousers, had his best boots on, and had donned a startlingly white shirt. Fortuitously, Legolas was searching his armoire for something suitable to wear and did not notice his sentry’s disconsolateness or his abstraction.

Legolas did not have much interest in expensive or ornate furnishings, decorations, or clothing, and so while he owned many fine things, he only kept up the pretense of appreciating them for his father’s sake. Holding up a long robe of a rich green fabric that fastened up the front with clasps made to look like leaves, the young Silvan asked his sentry with a merry smile, “Do you think this one will suffice? It is the plainest one I can find without going in my bathing robe, and I doubt very much Ada will be pleased with my bathing robe.”

Laughing at his Prince’s mirth, Kalin thoroughly wiped at his damp face again ere he walked to the laegel. “I think it will do nicely. Let me wrap your ribs, my Prince, please,” he requested of Legolas, who had already put on a shirt as if to forgo having his sentry bind his torso with linen.

From his trousers’ waist, the young Silvan pulled out the rolled up linen he had removed before bathing and then lifted up his shirt. Taking the linen from Legolas’ hand, Kalin silently wrapped it around the young Elf’s chest. The marks upon his charge’s side were darker than they had been hours earlier and would grow darker still over the next day or so; however, since the Prince was up and about and breathing fine, the guard tried not to worry. As he tucked in the end of the linen to keep it taut, Kalin had the sudden feeling that just like he was covering up Thranduil’s marks upon Legolas’ pale hide, Kalin was also covering up his failure to protect his charge as he had oathed to do. And here in this room, where the Queen’s presence lingered like the fading scent of a withering flower, Kalin felt for the first time a true fear for Legolas’ well-being. He recalled Ninan’s admonishment from earlier today, when his captain had told him Kalin would not always be there to protect his Prince.

 _No,_ he told himself, denying the vague, disquieting feeling of dread overwhelming him. He stood back and watched Legolas pull on his chosen robe. _I will always be here to protect him._

Legolas began to plait his hair in swift, practiced motions. Kalin was happy to note his charge had no problem in doing so; earlier, it had pained the young Silvan to lift his arm up above his head, though it did not seem to discomfort him now. Stepping away from the mirror when done, Legolas turned to Kalin to ask with faint sarcasm, “Am I dressed appropriately for my station?”

Of course, Legolas’ body was of a grown Elf, but usually the Prince’s innocence and drab clothing made him appear younger, naïve, and unworldly. With his beautifully crafted robe clinging tightly to the laegel’s lithe form, his damp hair now braided into the intricate twists and plaits he wore when ceremony or occasion called for it, and his face set in the stoic facsimile of Thranduil’s similar features, Legolas appeared the Prince he was. But it wasn’t Legolas’ appearance giving Kalin pause and making his agreement falter upon his lips; it was the younger Elf’s demeanor. In that moment, Kalin saw the Elf whom his Prince would become – strong, astute, capable, but also burdened, grieved, and entirely too much like Thranduil.

When Legolas lifted a single, dark amber eyebrow in silent question of his sentry’s continued reticence, Kalin finally managed to answer by saying, “Your father will be pleased.”

No more soothing compliment could Kalin have made, for the King’s approval was the single most important metric by which the young Prince measured his success. Giving himself a final glance in the mirror, Legolas adjusted the collar of his robe. “I suppose I should go find Faidnil. He will have fashioned a crown for me to wear tonight, lest Ada expects me to wear my awful mithril diadem again.”

Kalin was not invited nor needed during this private meal, and so he would now have to part from his Prince. Ever desirous for Legolas to be reassured that his faithful sentry was at his beck and call, Kalin bowed slightly to the young Wood-Elf and told him, “I hope you enjoy yourself, my Prince. If you have need of me, for any reason, I will be in my room for the remainder of the night.”

Absently, Legolas nodded, while Kalin reluctantly walked to the door to open it. Before Kalin could step outside, though, his Prince called out, causing his sentry to halt at once when he said hesitantly, “Kalin.”

“Yes, my Prince?” he queried eagerly, ever ready to aid his charge.

No longer looking like the Prince he would become but the innocent and harried youngling he was now, Legolas tentatively smiled at Kalin, telling him simply, “Thank you.”

His chest swelling with love for his Prince, Kalin bowed again and returned the smile, ere he walked out into the corridor. As he shut the door behind him, Kalin gave a sigh of relief. Since this morning, after being asked by the Elvenking to fetch the Prince, Kalin had felt anxious over his charge’s welfare and irritated with his King, though both his anxiety and irritation were relieved. More important to Kalin was this: the melancholy his Prince had displayed this morning was now absent. Indeed, the sentry was quite sure his Prince had enjoyed himself thoroughly this day, despite that he had not been able to practice his bow as he had planned, despite that he had suffered his father’s anger, and regardless that he had spent the day with his sentry rather than his friends. Kalin began away to his room, his steps unhurried and easy.

 _Tomorrow we start again,_ the sentry thought with another sigh, though this one was of pleasure, for he never grew tired of the satisfaction his duties brought to him. Kalin felt he could find no truer calling than caring for his Prince – his life was forever entangled with Legolas’ life, he knew. For another day, at least, Kalin could say he had done everything he could for his beloved Prince to keep Legolas happy, safe, and well.

Some Elves devoted themselves to learning all they could of medicines, of warcraft, or of lore. Some of the Eldar were taken with nature or adventure, or they were so enamored with their lover they thought of little else.

For Kalin, there was only his oath to protect his Prince. Everything else came second to this oath and would until the day he died.


End file.
